


Jeepers Creepers

by Mystic_Whim



Series: Jeepers Creepers [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Whim/pseuds/Mystic_Whim
Summary: Starsky shares an odd connection to a beautiful and mysterious crime victim.Nominated for a 2003 Torino Award





	Jeepers Creepers

**_Jeepers Creepers_ **

**_By Mystic Whim_ **

 

Pulling on the heavy door, the woman quickly stepped into the restaurant and out of the downpour of rain. She paused for a moment to catch her breath after her quick dash through the wet parking lot, and to shake the excess moisture from her long mane of straight black hair. Glancing around the room, she smiled. It was exactly as she expected; warm, dark and tastefully decorated. She couldn't help herself; she had to quickly scan the faces to see if he was here, even though she had already noted that his car was not present in the parking lot. None of the faces looked familiar.

The maitre d' approached her with a kind smile. She requested a table for one, following him to a small table near the back. She stifled a small gasp when he stopped at her table. It was the same table she shared with him. Smiling in satisfaction, she slipped into her seat with assistance from the polite maitre d', and then watched him proudly return to his post at the front door. The menu he left in front of her contained a variety of Italian dishes, with a large enough selection to please most any patron. The prices were reasonable, she noted with relief. She may have to return to this place often. Her eyes drifted again to the front door, watching expectantly for him to arrive. Forcing her eyes back to the menu, she reminded herself that this would require patience. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be the night. The smile tugged at the corners of her mouth again. She had patience. She had waited this long. Things were finally falling into place. Every instinct in her body told her that she would see him soon.

The waiter appeared soon to take her order. His eyes were warm and friendly, and his manner extremely professional. He was a young man, but obviously took his job quite seriously. He anticipated all her needs, making her dining experience enjoyable.

She took her time, savoring every bite, sipping the flavorful wine. She allowed herself to cast a glance at each new diner who entered, looking for that familiar face. It did not disappoint her that he was not present. He would be soon. Not tonight, but soon. She gave a contented sigh.

It was growing late. Her dinner had been completed, the wineglass nearly empty. She looked up to catch the eye of her young waiter to signal for her check. It was then that she saw the four men enter the restaurant.

They charged in with authority, brandishing guns. Their faces were obscured with ski masks; their eyes intense with hate and power in the large openings of the black knit. She gasped in fear and leapt to her feet. Gunfire pierced the air. The blasts were rapid and loud, a demented drum solo creating a horrifying melody. The sound paralyzed her. The sight sickened her. Innocent diners were falling to the floor, blood splatters following their descent.

A nearby booth full of people flipped their table on end, hoping the wood could provide a shield from the bullets until the madmen ended their onslaught. She started to run to the table for shelter, but her dash caught the eye of an attacker. A gun was slowly swung in her direction. Her waiter came out of nowhere. He grabbed her arms and threw her to the floor before diving after her. The bullets tore into him before he hit the ground. He landed beside her, his face level with hers. There was blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. His once warm and friendly eyes were filled with terror and shock. His eyes locked on hers, as if begging for help. She was crying, whispering to him, "Hang on! You'll be okay! Don't give up! Stay with me now!" But the eyes became unfocused, the facial muscles lax. His eyes remained open in a lifeless stare. Please don't die!

A sound in front of her commanded her attention. The people from the booth were panicking, leaving their table shelter. A single gunman walked directly toward them, and they jumped up to stampede away. More gunfire blotted out the screams of the room, and the shooter killed them as they attempted to flee. She felt a white-hot pain in her side, just before she was buried under the fallen bodies of her fellow diners. Pinned beneath the dead, unable to move, she locked her eyes on the dead face of her waiter and screamed with all the force her terror provided. The scream had no sound. Over and over she screamed, but not a sound could be heard.

 

~*~

 

The shrill ring of the telephone shook Hutch from his peaceful dream. He reached for the phone with one hand, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes with the other. "Hutchinson", he announced into the handset.

"Hutch? This is Capt. Dobey," the man announced in a formal tone.

Hutch sat up in an effort to wake up further. "Yeah, Captain. What's happened?" He glanced around the room. It was still dark. His eyes fell on the alarm clock: 4:30 a.m.

"I need you and your partner to get to Fourth and Chestnut right away. There's been a shooting. It's an Italian restaurant, Paesano's. It ain't pretty, Hutch. There's got to be two dozen victims. Looks like a mob related massacre. At least one shooter with an automatic weapon came in and wiped out everyone in the place, guests and staff. So far no witnesses."

Fully awake now, Hutch furrowed his brow. "Fourth and Chestnut? Isn't that Gia's? I thought that place was closed up."

"It recently opened up under new ownership, and a new name. It's Paesano's now. How quickly can you get down here?"

"Give me a half hour or so, Cap. I've got to get dressed and pick up Starsky."

"Okay Hutch. See you then."

Hutch pulled the phone onto his lap, hanging up the connection. He dialed his partner.

"Hmmm?" a sleepy voice murmured.

"Starsk, wake up. It's me, Hutch"

"Hush? Wassa matter? Time izzit?" Starsky slurred.

"Just get up and get dressed, pal," Hutch demanded. "We've got work to do."

The phone made some weird banging noises, and Hutch realized his partner must have dropped the handset. Finally the voice returned. "Sorry. Whazzup?"

"There's been a shooting. Couple dozen victims. Dobey thinks it may be mob related. You up?"

"I'm up. Where's it at?"

"Fourth and Chestnut," Hutch replied. "A restaurant called Paesano's."

"You're closer. I'll come get you. Hey, bring me coffee, will ya?" Starsky asked, his voice sounding a little more awake.

"Will do, partner. Make it fast." He hung up the phone and headed for the kitchen to make the requested coffee.

 

~*~

 

Hutch slid into the passenger side of the car, passing a cup of coffee to his partner. Starsky cupped the mug in his hands and inhaled deeply before tasting it. "Thanks pal," he mumbled into the cup. "I needed that."

"I also brought you this," Hutch grinned, tossing a Snickers bar into his friend's lap.

Starsky's face lit up. "A candy bar? You brought me a candy bar?" He ripped the wrapper off one end and took a hearty bite. "Ah. Breakfast of champions." His grin and his comment were sincere. "What did I do to deserve this?" He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Hutch shook his head smiling. "I figured I owed you for dragging you to that salad bar yesterday for lunch."

"I still can't believe they don't serve anything but salads. Ya can't live on nothin' but rabbit food, Hutch. It ain't right."

"Are you suggesting I should eat candy and coffee for breakfast?"

"At least I'm eatin' breakfast," he replied, gesturing to Hutch's empty hands.

Hutch chuckled. "It'll catch up with you one day," he warned.

They drove the rest of the way to the restaurant quietly. The scene that awaited them would not be easy to process, and they mentally prepared as best they could.

The restaurant was lit up as if still open for business. The parking lot was full of cars. In addition to the cars of the patrons, it was now filled with police cars, coroner's wagons, and ambulances. The brightly colored and flashing lights of the vehicles looked eerily festive for the devastating event that called them together.

Inside the building, it was almost silent, except for the instrumental melody of That's Amore that piped through the hidden speakers, oblivious to the carnage in the room. The once lovely décor was now riddled with bullet holes and splattered blood, the tables and chairs overturned, bodies sprawled across the floor. The two detectives made their way to their captain in the center of the room.

Captain Dobey stood with two uniformed officers, directing them to a booth at the side of the room where several bodies were found. As Starsky and Hutch approached, he cast tired eyes in their direction. "Ah good, you're here. Let me run down what we have so far. According to the coroner, he is guessing the shooting took place around ten last night. We won't know for certain until he begins the actual autopsies. We are guessing now that there were three or four gunmen. They blasted everyone in the place. It must have been quick. No witnesses. No survivors. No one heard anything. That thunderstorm last night covered a lot of the sounds, and buildings were shut up tight in this area. The first one on the scene was a chef. She comes in to bake the bread early in the morning. The building had been locked up, so she used her key to get in and walked into this." He gestured around the room with his hand.

"Captain, if this happened last night, how come they weren't found right away?" Hutch asked.

"The main sign was turned off, and the doors locked. There are no windows that allow you to see into the dining room or the kitchen. If anyone had come here looking for someone, they might assume the place was closed. The only tip off would be the cars in the parking lot."

"Better check to see if there were any complaints last night called into dispatch," Hutch said to Starsky. "I can't imagine no one reported these people missing." Starsky nodded in agreement.

"Any clues who's responsible?" Starsky asked his captain.

"The area is controlled by the Gaziano family," the Captain said thoughtfully. "I supposed it is possible it was an attempt to go after them. We'll know more after we get some id's on the bodies."

A commotion pulled their attention to a booth along the side of the room. "Captain Dobey?! We've got a live one here!!" a voice cried out.

Starsky's head popped up. He started to walk slowly toward the officer who had yelled. Another uniformed officer was assisting the first in pulling victims off of a pile. Soon they reached a woman on the bottom, lying in a pool of blood. The officer who found her was holding fingers to her throat, feeling a pulse. "Where are the paramedics?!" he demanded.

A paramedic ran up with a medical bag in his hand. He knelt beside the woman, and began to check her over, assessing her injuries. Before he could accomplish much, the woman's eyes snapped open and she leapt away from him, plastering herself in the corner of the table-less booth. She was terribly frightened, shaking and breathing hard. She was wearing a simple yet elegant black dress, soaked with blood, and her arms and legs were painted red with it as well. More blood glistened in her hair, and streaked across her lovely face. Her eyes were open wide, darting between the paramedic and the two uniformed officers attempting to help her. Those eyes were remarkable. Huge and framed with long black lashes, her grey eyes looked positively haunted. They weren't hazel eyes, but a light grey, capable of staring straight through the men who confronted her. The paramedic spoke in soothing tones, being sure not to make any sudden or frightening moves. Still wracked with panic, the woman pressed herself further into the corner, every muscle tensed, prepared to spring away from her pursuers.

Starsky stepped closer to see the woman, watching her cringing away from the men trying to coax her out. Without thinking, he softly spoke to her. "Hey."

Her eyes darted to Starsky as if he were a new threat, and locked on his face. Her eyes were filled with terror, haunted by her experience, and they stared straight into his soul. He unconsciously held his breath, struck by her exotic beauty, riveted by those soulful eyes. Then he saw her eyes widen. He saw something flash in them. Was that relief? Recognition? In an instant she flew from the corner, leaping forward with the grace and speed of a panther. Jumping over the bodies between her and Starsky, she flung herself at him, hitting him with a force enough to knock him down to one knee.

Shocked, he carefully reached out to hold her. She had wrapped her arms about his waist in a death grip, forcing the air from his lungs. He struggled to breathe, murmuring, "Hey, it's okay. We're going to help you. You're safe now." Her grip loosened only slightly, her face pressed tightly against his chest. Hutch was standing behind them at a short distance, and she looked at him before closing her eyes in relief. She finally loosened her grasp to a more comfortable level but kept her arms locked around Starsky's waist. He wrapped his arms around her gently, trying to offer comfort. "Are you shot?" he asked. She remained silent. He stroked her face in a soft caress, looking to the paramedic with a helpless expression on his face.

"She a friend of yours Starsky?" the paramedic asked.

Starsky shook his head. "I don't know her, John", he told the man. "Is she okay?"

Shrugging, John admitted, "She ran from me before I could really examine her." He stepped closer to them only to have her tighten her grip on Starsky again.

"Easy now," Starsky soothed her. He looked back to John. "So much blood, John. How badly is she injured?" Hutch stepped up alongside his partner. He watched as Starsky caressed her face again with great care and tenderness. Hutch took note that Starsky was holding this girl with a familiarity and a gentleness he usually reserved for someone he knew and cared about.

"That's not her blood," the officer behind John explained. "At least not all of it. She was underneath several shooting victims. No telling who's blood that is."

"Starsky, do you think you could talk her into letting me examine her?" John inquired.

Hutch watched as Starsky reached under her chin to gently tip her pale face up toward his. Starsky spoke quietly to the girl; telling him he was going to help her, keep her safe. He looked to Hutch and with a worried voice said, "She's so cold, Hutch. I can feel how cold she is right through my clothes." Starsky had his arms around her now, trying to give her some of his warmth.

Without thinking, Hutch reached out and touched her to check her body temperature. To the surprise of the paramedic and policemen present, the girl did not pull away from his hand as she had theirs. "John, could she be going into shock?" Hutch asked.

"It's very possible," John agreed. "She was unconscious when I found her, and she may be shot or bleeding."

Instantly Starsky shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it over the woman's shoulders. He pushed her back from him slightly, though she still kept her hands fastened behind his back. Getting right in her face, he warned her, "I'm going to help you get your arms into my jacket, but I want to check you for injuries when I do. Will you let me do that?" She stared into his eyes, but did not answer him. Carefully, Starsky reached under his jacket and ran his hands along her shoulders, down her back. She visibly flinched as his hands came down her side, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered. Then he glanced up at John. "She's been shot, on her left side, near her back." He continued to run his hands over her skin; down one arm, slipping it into his jacket, then repeating the gesture down her other arm. She allowed his touch as easily as she had allowed Hutch's. After he had finished getting her into the warm leather jacket, he pulled her into his chest again, and changed his position so he was kneeling but sitting back on his feet. She was pulled forward so that she was nearly lying across his lap, her left side now more accessible to the paramedic. John quickly caught on and knelt beside Starsky. "He needs to look at that wound," Starsky explained. Seeing no negative response, John pulled the coat back to get a better look.

"We're gonna need a blanket stat," John muttered. "She is cold and seems shocky."

"Hutch, there's a blanket in my car," Starsky said quickly.

"Give me your keys," Hutch held out his hand. To his great surprise, the woman reached into the left jacket pocket and withdrew Starsky's car keys, handing them to Hutch. For a moment Hutch was stunned. She did not search for the keys; she reached for them as if she knew exactly where they were. What's going on here? Do they know each other? "At least we know she speaks English," he mused.

The police officer stepped up to Hutch. "Give me the keys, Hutch. I'll go get the blankets." He took them and sprinted for the door, grateful for a chance to get out of the gruesome room.

Hutch looked down at the girl draped across his partner. "Are you sure you don't know her Starsk?" he asked his friend. "You two seem to know each other." Starsky shook his head but said nothing.

Officer Roberts returned with the blanket and Starsky's keys. He also held some clothing out to Starsky and John. "I found a sweatshirt and some sweatpants in the trunk too."

"That's good," John replied. "I'm going to have to cut this dress off of her to treat her wound. We can clean off some of this blood and get her into some warm clothes." He proceeded to dress her injury, happily declaring, "It's just a crease." Using some towels that were brought forth from the kitchen, they wiped away much of the blood that had covered her. Soon she was bandaged and slipped into the sweatpants. With John's help, Starsky removed the jacket and they got her into the sweatshirt as well. Once the jacket was again put on her, she looked like the color was returning to her face.

"I want to get her to the hospital," John stated. "That dressing is probably not going to be enough, and I want to be sure her blood pressure is stable. She's lucky she didn't bleed to death. Being pinned down like that, it must have put pressure on her wound. Probably saved her life." He inserted an iv into her arm, and tucked the blanket snug around her.

Finally Starsky coaxed her into releasing him, and eased her onto a gurney. She grabbed his hand in a strangling grip, but finally laid back into the bed as long as he was within reach.

Dobey approached the group. "Roberts, Johansson, you two take the girl to the hospital and keep watch over her. When she is released, we'll take her to a safe house for protection."

Starsky looked to his boss. "Cap'n, let me take her. I'll guard her."

"No way Starsky. I'll need you on this case," Dobey said sternly. "I can't spare you."

"But Cap'n," Starsky began, only to be cut off by his boss.

"Starsky!" Dobey barked. "Roberts and Johansson will take her to the hospital, then to the safe house. You and your partner will lead this investigation. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," Starsky grumbled He slipped his hand from hers, and sagged at the fear that had returned to her eyes. She was still terrified, and now was losing the only person in the room she trusted. "I'll come see you," he promised her. "They'll take good care of you." With that, John pushed the gurney away, taking her outside to the ambulance, flanked by Johansson and Roberts.

Starsky and Hutch headed around the room, speaking to the uniformed officers on the scene, gathering information. It wasn't long before a breathless Roberts and Johansson ran back into the restaurant. Starsky was quickly on their heels.

"Captain Dobey," Roberts called, "The woman disappeared. She took off," he said breathlessly.

"What do you mean she disappeared?!" Starsky shouted. "How could she disappear? She's got an iv in her arm, a gunshot wound in her side, she's barefoot and wearing sweatpants three sizes too big on her! It's not like she can get very far! What's the matter with you?"

"Starsky! That's enough!" Dobey commanded. He turned to Roberts. "What happened?"

"We went with John to get her into the ambulance. He got the gurney loaded, and we were about to shut the doors when she came flying out. She had yanked the iv right out of her arm. We pursued her, but she ducked between the cars, and we lost her."

"Get out there and find her!" Dobey shouted. "All available hands! Search that parking lot. She can't have gone far. Find her. She's our only witness." All but a few of the uniformed officers joined in the search.

Starsky turned to Hutch and quietly muttered, "Shoulda let me guard her."

"I heard that Starsky," Dobey said in a threatening tone. Starsky shrugged.

After a complete search of the parking lot and the adjacent properties, the police finally gave up in defeat. The exotic woman with the haunting eyes was nowhere to be found. Finished with their investigation of the scene, Starsky and Hutch headed to the car, ready to head back to the precinct. As they neared the car, Hutch stopped in his tracks. Starsky turned to him questioningly, but Hutch just nodded in the direction of Starsky's Torino.

Starsky followed his gaze, and grinned. The passenger side door was not completely closed, and at the bottom of the door a small corner of a dark blanket peeked out. Hutch stood guard beside the passenger door as Starsky opened the driver's door. He quickly flipped the seat and slid into the backseat. The woman was curled up on the floor behind the front passenger seat. She was wrapped in the blanket, a stream of blood dripping down from where the iv had been attached. Her face was tear-stained. She looked weary and helpless, and Starsky's heart went out to her. "You gave us a pretty big scare, disappearing like that," he quietly chided her. "I think I can help you. Will you let me take you to the doctor?" He caressed her cheek, wiping away a tear. She turned her face into his hand. "Okay. I'll see what I can do. No more takin' off on us though. I'm gonna go talk to my boss. I'll be right back."

He stepped from the car and nodded to Hutch, who slipped into the front passenger seat to keep an eye on their charge. Starsky approached Capt. Dobey who was now in the parking lot. Starsky explained their unexpected stowaway, and once again pleaded with Dobey to allow him to guard their only witness. He was still reluctant, but Dobey decided to hear the entire argument before reaching a decision. While making his case, Starsky walked Dobey back to the Torino.

Seeing them approach, Hutch emerged from the car and listened to the pitch his partner was giving. He told the captain how he and Hutch were the only people the girl trusted, pointed out how she had fled the only other people she had allowed close to her. He reminded how close they came to losing the only witness they had to the shooting. Hutch spoke up. "Captain, if you are worried about pulling Starsky off the investigation, we can trade off watching the girl. You can still have the benefit of having both of us on the case. We'll keep each other up to date on what we find out."

Starsky gave his partner a grateful nod. "Captain, the girl has been through enough as it is. She was shot, witnessed dozens of people killed right in front of her face, and found herself pinned under bodies for the night. Doesn't she have any rights? Can't she even say who she would prefer to protect her?"

Quietly Hutch spoke. "It does seem like we are victimizing her yet again."

Dobey harrumphed. "All right. Take the girl to the hospital, and then get her to a safe house. I'll have one prepared for you. Call me after she sees a doctor and tell me how she is doing."

Starsky's face lit up in a huge smile. "Thanks Cap'n! You won't regret it!" He hurried to his car to exit before the man had a chance to change his mind. He climbed into the backseat to help ease the frightened girl onto the back seat, but kept her lying down so no one would see her being taken from the restaurant. It would be safer for her if her survival was not known. Hutch handed him his handkerchief so that he could press it against the spot where she tore the iv from her arm. Soon they were on their way to the hospital.

With a brief explanation to the hospital administrator, the woman was treated without a name, her circumstances being kept on a need-to-know basis. The physician who attended her came out and directed them to a private office to discuss her condition. "She has the single bullet wound on her side, and there was quite a bit of blood loss, but not as much as I would have expected after withholding treatment for so many hours. The iv was re-inserted upon admittance, though she really doesn't require it. She is actually doing quite well, and could probably leave in a few hours. I would like to monitor for that long, just to be sure she is stable."

"What about her voice, Doc?" Starsky asked with concern. "How come she isn't talking? Can she talk?"

"Physically she is able to talk," the doctor explained. "However, she has been through an extreme trauma, and this is one of the effects of that. Her voice will return, but that will take some time. She needs to heal mentally as well as physically. I am going to prescribe a sedative to help her sleep. I recommend that she also see a psychiatrist to help her deal with the emotional trauma. In addition to the sedative, I'm sending her off with antibiotics, to avoid infection, and a pain killer for her wound."

They thanked him for his help and followed him in to where the woman waited. She was lying in the bed; eyes wide open as if expecting something terrible to happen. As the two detectives walked into her room she visibly relaxed. Relief poured over her expression. Starsky sat on the side of the bed, and gave her a warm smile. She clutched his hand, hanging on to him like a lifeline. Once she had contact with him, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to rest.

Starsky looked at her, still bundled in his leather jacket and sweats, and thought how tiny she appeared in the oversized clothes. She was still curled up as if trying to keep warm, so he pulled a blanket up over her and gently rubbed her arm. Hutch watched his partner's manner with the girl and again felt the nagging feeling that they knew each other.

"Starsk," he said softly. "Are you sure you don't know her from somewhere?"

"I've never seen her before," he quietly responded. "Don't ya think I'd remember eyes like those, Hutch? They are pretty memorable, don't ya think?"

Hutch nodded. She did have stunning eyes. It would not be an easy face to forget. And with her dark complexion and blue black hair, she looked like she may be part Native American, part Mediterranean descent. She had a natural beauty that was fascinating. He was sure Starsky would not forget a woman with her allure, yet he felt unsettled about her. How did she find his car? She had no way of knowing which car was his, yet she managed to hide in his back seat. He decided to keep an eye on her. You can't be too careful.

A few hours later the doctor returned to check her vital signs. She had remained stable during her stay, even got some sleep, so he allowed the men to take her from the hospital with a promise to return if there was any change in her condition. Hutch called Captain Dobey and found the safe house that they were to bring her.

The safe house was small with one bedroom, a bath, and a sofa sleeper in the living room. The kitchen was probably the biggest room of the house. After dropping off Starsky and the girl, Hutch left in search of food, and a change of clothes for the pair. When he returned, he found that the girl had gone to sleep, and Starsky was occupying himself with a game of solitaire. The two men put away the groceries, and Hutch left to return to the precinct.

The evening was pretty uneventful, and Starsky soon dozed off on the couch. Something woke him in the middle of the night, all his senses alerted to any strange noises. He heard a soft sound coming from the bedroom, and stealthily crept to the room to check on his charge. He watched her in the bed a moment, realizing that the sound he heard was soft sniffles. She was crying.

He softly approached her bed. "Hey, you okay?" he whispered. She didn't acknowledge him. He leaned over and gently brushed the tears from her cheek. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, her arms and feet thrashing wildly. She was fighting with the blankets and comforter that had been so carefully tucked around her as if they were burning her flesh. Without uttering a sound, she fought against her invisible demons, terror once again blatant in her eyes.

Starsky sat on the side of her bed and tried to grab her arms. "It's me!" he cried softly. "It's Starsky! Take it easy. I'm here. I've got you. You're all right."

As quickly as the attack started, it ended. She suddenly stopped, breathing hard. Her arms dropped. Her eyes were not focuses at first, but she soon lifted her gaze to the man clutching her upper arms. Bright with pooled tears, her eyes studied him for a long moment.

Starsky released his tight grip on her arms. He started to rub her arms up and down as if to warm her, relax her. Just as he was about to get up from the bed, she jumped at him without warning. She grasped his work shirt in her fists, tugging him toward her. She wrestled with his shirt, trying to unbutton it, pull it from his body.

Shocked by her sudden assault on his clothes, Starsky tried to stop her. He clasped her fingers in his own, stilling their actions. Her eyes locked on his, and he saw something in them that caused him to free her hands, give her free reign. There was desperation in her eyes, a need that pierced his heart. He would have given her anything to stop the tortured pain he saw there.

She resumed her task unbuttoning his shirt, roughly ripping it from his body when undone. She then tugged at his tshirt with the same ferocity, and he aided her in removing it. Casting it aside, she placed a hand against his chest, staring at it breathlessly. There was something so primitive in her actions; not sexual, but driven by instinct, fear and need. Her hand pressed more firmly against his chest, fingers together, eyes fixated on her own hand. She leaned in to him; placed her head against his chest where her hand had been held. She nuzzled her head against him, wrapping her right arm around him and reaching for his hand with her left. Guiding his hand under her shirt, she placed it against her bare chest, pressing it against herself as she had held her hand against him. He could feel her heart beating hard in her chest.

Starsky's eyes burned with the understanding of her actions. She had nestled her head against him to listen to his heart, to hear and feel its beat, to feel his life force and share her own. After spending a night surrounded by slaughter and the smell of death, buried beneath corpses, blood raining down upon her, she craved life. She needed to hear it, to feel it, be warmed by it. Her earlier fight with her blankets was not a fight against her demons, but an attempt to claw her way out from under the bodies that had pinned her down. She had been reliving her experience in her dreams.

Starsky squeezed his eyes shut, wondering just how callused he had become, how unaffected by human destruction. As a cop he was trained to emotionally detach, but when did it make him unaware of the emotions of the victims?

He lay back on her bed, gathering her against him. He wrapped his arms around her and caressed the top of her head with his cheek. "You're alive, babe. I'm alive. You can hear it, feel it. Life will be beautiful again, I promise..." he whispered into her hair. His tears fell down his cheeks, just as hers fell upon his chest.

Eventually she fell asleep in his arms. Her arms still wrapped tightly around him, even in sleep. He absorbed her pain, feeling it ebb from her tiny frame, feeling it squeeze at his heart as he took her suffering as his own.

In the morning, Starsky awoke to find her still tightly wrapped against him, sound asleep. He let his mind wander over the events of the previous day, bewildered about some of the feelings he wrestled with. There was something so profoundly familiar about this woman in his arms, yet he couldn't identify it. From the first time he laid eyes on her, terrorized in the corner of the booth, he felt he knew her. Not her face or her appearance, but her essence, her spirit. There was no way he had ever seen that face before. That face he would have remembered. But he knew her. He knew her personality, her scent, her taste. He knew how she would feel against his skin. He knew how it would feel to make love to her. Everything about this woman spoke of an old love, comfortable and trustworthy. Yet, he had never seen her before yesterday. How can I feel this way about a stranger?

He suddenly felt the need to escape from the bed, from the house. If he stayed with her much longer, he would let his desires overtake him. He slid from her grasp and from her bed, leaving her sleeping peacefully and alone. Heading into the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee. Plucking the phone from its cradle, he dialed his best friend.

"Starsk, I was just about to call you," Hutch said in a serious tone.

"Anything happenin' at the precinct?" he asked, glad for the distraction.

Starsky's need to hear about the mundane sparked a suspicion in his partner. "Is something wrong, Starsk?"

"No, just bored," he lied. He didn't know how to explain his troubling thoughts when they didn't make sense to himself. "Has the coroner come up with anything we can use?"

"The bullets he took from the bodies have been run through ballistics. It seems like there were four different weapons being used."

"Four gunmen? That's more info than we had before."

"I spoke to the owner of Paesano's. He didn't have any leads on who would do this. I tend to think he knows more than he is saying. I'm supposed to meet with Roberts and Johansson to plan our next move."

"When are you meeting with them?" Starsky asked.

"Late this afternoon," Hutch answered. His suspicions were back. "Why?"

"Think ya can come spell me for a couple hours?"

Hutch raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Sure, pal. I'll be right over. Anything I can bring you?"

Starsky sighed in relief. Getting out for a couple hours might help clear his head. At the very least it would give him a chance to be away from the woman who was tempting him from the next room. "No, I don't need anything. Thanks Hutch."

Hutch stared at the phone long after he hung it up. Something was bothering Starsky, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He fumbled with the sketchpad in front of him, flicking through the drawings once again. Something told him that this artwork was related to Starsky's odd behavior lately. The pad had been found on the floor of the restaurant and brought in with all the other unidentified victims' belongings. There was no name in it, but there was a tell tale drawing that announced its owner. Hutch flipped to the page titled Self Portrait, and admired the now familiar face with the huge haunting eyes. He snapped the pad closed and tucked it under his arm before leaving to see Starsky.

By the time Hutch arrived, Starsky was antsy to get out. He had been remembering pieces of dreams, dreams that involved the girl. They were ordinary enough images; eating lunch, laughing at the beach, driving in his car. Were they from last night? Or have I had these dreams before? Then there was an erotic memory. Best not to think about that.

Hutch knocked on the front door. Starsky pulled open the door and stepped back for his friend to enter. Instead, Hutch grabbed his arm and pulled him outside, closing the door behind them. He turned to face down Starsky on the front porch. "What's the matter Hutch?" Starsky asked bewildered.

At first Hutch didn't answer. He locked eyes with Starsky as if trying to see right into his thoughts. Starsky held his scrutiny for a long moment then turned away. "Are you sleeping with our witness, partner?" Hutch accused.

Starsky whirled around and faced him again. "No!"

"Then why are you so anxious to get out of here this morning?" he demanded.

Starsky walked up to the railing around the porch and leaned both his hands against it. "I didn't sleep with her Hutch. I held her last night, nothing more. She woke up with nightmares, and I just wanted to comfort her. This morning I wanted her. So I called you. I thought if I could just get away for a while, put some distance between us and get my mind off her, I would be fine, all right?"

"Have you slept with her before?"

Starsky turned around. "Whadda ya mean before? I TOLD you. I don't know the girl. I never met her before yesterday."

"Then explain this to me." Hutch opened up the art pad and showed Starsky a beautiful sketch of three zebras running wild.

"What's this?" Starsky asked, reaching for the pad. As soon as he touched it, he knew who it belonged to. "It's hers."

"If you have never met her before, why would she know about Zebra 3?" Hutch watched him intently.

Starsky smiled. "Come on Hutch, it's got to be a coincidence. So she draws some zebras. That doesn't mean it has to do with us."

Hutch took the pad from his hands, and turned to another page. He handed it back to Starsky. This drawing was of a faceless man with dark curly hair and a leather jacket. Though the facial features were not sketched, there was no mistaking the build and the posture of Starsky. He looked to Hutch with confusion.

Taking the book again, Hutch flipped to another page. This one was sketched in color. It was a sketch of someone's eyes; Starsky's eyes.

He flipped to one more sketch. This one was drawn as if the artist was behind Starsky, and he was looking over his shoulder back at the artist. He wore no shirt and he was turned slightly, but the scars from the bullet wounds on his back were visible in the drawing. Starsky snatched the pad from his friend and sank down to sit on the front step. Hutch sat beside him.

"Where do you know her from?" Hutch asked quietly.

"I have never seen her before in my life," Starsky insisted. "Are you sure this is her pad?" Hutch reached over and flipped the pages to reveal the self portrait. Starsky closed the pad, reopening it to start from the beginning, examining each and every drawing. He found one of Hutch. His facial features were not drawn, giving the illusion he was a stranger hovering in the background like a sentinel.

As Starsky searched through the art pad, Hutch told him of the suspicious things he noticed yesterday. How she knew where to find his keys, the fact that she knew his car, and how she only allowed the two of them to get near her.

"She knows us," Starsky said simply.

"How?" Hutch asked. "And what does she have to do with this shooting?"

Shaking his head, Starsky replied, "I have no idea." He was silent a few minutes. He mustered up the courage to confess what had been bothering him. "Hutch, I've had the weirdest feeling I know this girl. Not just aware of her, not just an acquaintance; but I know her. I don't know how to explain it. I know I've had dreams about her, or maybe they are memories. The more I am around her, the more I remember and the more I feel. The only way I could know someone the way I know her is to have had a long term relationship with her. I feel like I know her as well as I know you."

"Has she started to talk yet?" Hutch asked hopefully.

"No. Last night I heard her crying in her sleep. I went in to check on her, and to find out what the noise was. I could hear her sniffling, but she was crying hard in her sleep and I couldn't hear a sob.

"I'm going to put this in my car," Hutch decided. "I'd like to learn more about her before I ask her about this. I'll run a check on her as soon as we have a name." He rose and walked down the driveway. When he returned, the two men went into the house.

"It's time for her meds," Starsky said, pouring a glass of orange juice. He shook some pills from a bottle into his hand, then picked up another and repeated the process. Pills and juice in hand, he went into the bedroom to wake the girl.

She was sleeping peacefully when he walked in. Unaware that Hutch was watching from the door, he sat on the edge of her bed and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. She woke from her sleep and smiled up at him.

"I brought you your pills," he said softly. She took the medication and drank the juice. "I gotta have a name for you," he mused. "Can't keep callin' ya babe, or hey you." He thought for a moment. "I should call you Jeepers. Like the song. You know, Jeepers Creepers, where'd ya get those peepers..." he sang.

She did not speak, but he saw a twinkle in her eyes. "If you don't like it," he continued, "you're just gonna have to use that voice of yours and tell me. ‘Kay, Jeeps?" He caressed her cheek then gave her a parting smile. "I'm gonna go out for a little while, but Hutch is gonna be here to keep you safe. Get some more sleep."

Hutch fell into place behind him as he brought the glass back to the kitchen. "Jeeps?" he teased.

"Gotta call her somethin'," he grinned. "You got something better?"

"No," Hutch admitted. "I like it. It suits her."

Starsky slid his coat on. His grin had faded. "I gotta get outta here. You gonna need anything?"

"Yeah. I need you to be careful." Hutch gave his friend a knowing glare.

Starsky faced him. "Careful? About Jeeps ya mean?"

Hutch nodded. "I saw you kiss her, Starsk. Don't get emotionally attached to her. We still don't know if we can trust her. And don't jeopardize our case by sleeping with our only witness."

"Come on Hutch!" Starsky turned away exasperated. "It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek. I'm not sleepin' with her, okay? I won't." He looked back at his friend with sad eyes. "I care about her Hutch. I'm not gonna sleep with her. She's still hurtin' over this. She's too vulnerable. Too fragile."

"I don't trust her, Starsky. Not until I have some answers. There may be a reason she was the only survivor in that massacre. There may be a reason she singled you out to help her. I want you to be careful and keep your eyes open."

Starsky nodded, then turned and walked out the door.

 

~*~

 

While Starsky was gone, Hutch read a book. Jeeps slept for a long time, then wandered out to the living room.

Hutch smiled a greeting at her. "Good morning Jeeps. I was just going to make some tea. Would you like some? It's good for your throat."

She nodded once, the first real attempt she had made to communicate. "You're talking to me," he said pleased. "Good! I'll get that tea."

He brought her a cup of herbal tea laced with lemon and honey. She drank it up before she curled on the couch wrapped in an afghan.

The pills were still making her very groggy so it wasn't long before she had fallen asleep. She was still sleeping soundly when Starsky pulled up in the driveway. Hutch heard the car, so he closed his book and put it on the coffee table. Starsky's keys in the lock startled Jeeps awake. She jumped to a sitting position and looked at the door. Starsky had unbolted the deadbolt and was now unlocking the doorknob. Jeeps panicked. Fearfully she leapt from the couch and ran for Hutch. "Ken!" she cried out.

Shocked, he grabbed her by the arms. "Jeeps, it's okay! It's Starsky!"

Starsky stepped into the living room, thrusting his keys in his pocket. Jeeps ran across the room to him, calling "David!" then fainted in his arms.

Starsky looked to Hutch, his eyes wide with amazement. "What happened?"

"You scared her. She didn't know it was you coming in," Hutch explained.

Picking up the unconscious girl, Starsky carried her to her bed. "She spoke! What did she say to you?" He slid her onto the bed and covered her with the blankets. He caressed her face.

"Just our names," he replied. "I was just as surprised as you."

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at the two men in fear. "It's okay Jeeps. It's just me and Hutch. You're safe." Jeeps closed her eyes in relief and sagged into the bed. "Go back to sleep, Jeeps," he whispered. "We'll talk later." The two men quietly slipped out of her room.

They sat down at the kitchen table and contemplated the change of events. "At least now we may be able to get some answers," Starsky said hopefully.

"Did you notice what she called us?" Hutch pointed out.

"What she called us?"

"Ken and David. When did she ever hear our first names?"

The two men sat in thoughtful silence.

 

~*~

 

Jeeps slept the rest of the afternoon. Hutch went back to the precinct to meet with Roberts and Johansson. She did not awaken in his absence.

After work, Hutch came by to have dinner with Starsky and Jeeps. He kicked his partner out of the kitchen and happily started to fix the meal. While it was cooking, they heard Jeeps call out softly from the bedroom. "David? Ken?"

Both men went to her. Starsky took his seat on the edge of the bed while Hutch leaned against the doorframe.

"How ya doin'?" Starsky gently asked her.

"I'm fine," she yawned. Then she smiled at him, her whole face lighting up. Without thinking, he reached up and caressed her cheek. She touched his hand and turned her face into his palm. "It's so good to finally meet you," she murmured.

"Do I know you?" Starsky asked, holding his breath.

She nodded. "You know me, don't you? I know you. I've been waiting to meet you, to finally find you."

Bewildered, Starsky shook his head. "I don't remember ever seeing you. How do I know you?"

"You don't know me here," she said, lightly placing her hand over his eyes for a moment. "You know me here." She placed her hand on his heart.

He placed his hand over hers and smiled. "I feel that. I feel like I have known you for a long time. But I don't understand it."

She shrugged. "Neither do I," she admitted. "I have seen you in my dreams, in my thoughts, for many years now. At first I couldn't see your face clearly, but once I moved to California, I started to catch glimpses of your face. Finally I could see you."

Hutch stepped forward. "Jeeps, are you saying you know us from your dreams?" She nodded.

Starsky added, "I've had dreams about you too, and memories that just come to me. But if we haven't met, how do I have memories of you?" She shook her head; unable to give him an answer to something she didn't understand either.

"What is your name?" Hutch asked.

"I know her name," Starsky replied. It was as if the knowledge of it just came to him. He looked at her. "It's not a girl's name, is it?" She laughed. "Mike?" he asked.

"Her name is Mike?" Hutch questioned.

She looked up at him. "Marcella," she replied. "But my friends call me Mike."

"How long have you known that?" Hutch asked his partner.

"Just now," he admitted. "I told you, the more I am around her, the more I remember."

Hutch sat down on the foot of her bed. "This doesn't make sense. You two must know each other from somewhere."

"We've never met," she insisted. "But I know everything about you David, just as you know me."

"What do you mean by that?" Hutch demanded.

"Ask me anything at all about David," she challenged. "I bet I know him as well as you do."

Hutch chuffed. "You can't know him as well as I do."

"Try me." Her eyes sparkled with defiance.

Starsky laughed. "What's my favorite color?"

"Blue," they answered in unison.

"My favorite soft drink?"

"Rootbeer," they replied

"Do I wear boxers or briefs?" he grinned.

Mike giggled. Hutch looked at him irritated. "Oh come on, Starsky. You wear your jeans so tight a nun could answer that question." He shook his head.

"Neither," they both stated, then looked at each other and laughed.

"Ask us something tougher, Starsk. Something only I would know," Hutch suggested. "Or something even I couldn't know."

Starsky got up and walked away from them. With his back still turned, he asked, "Do I prefer to make love with the lights on or off?" He kept his back turned.

"On," Hutch answered.

"Off," Mike answered.

Then Mike turned to Hutch and corrected, "He used to prefer to make love with the lights on but now he prefers them off."

Hutch looked at her perplexed.

"He is self conscious about his scars," she said quietly.

Starsky turned around to face them. His eyes held such a stricken expression, filled with hurt and pain. They both looked to him for an answer. "She's right," he said in a hoarse voice. Then he left the room.

Hutch went after him, but when he got into the living room he heard the front door close. He had left the house.

Mike came into the living room to find Hutch just standing there, running his hand through his hair. Hutch turned on her. "Who are you Jeeps? Why are you here? Did someone send you to us?"

"I'm not out to hurt either of you," she answered. "I don't know why this is happening."

 

~*~

 

Starsky returned later and the three sat down to a very quiet dinner. When dinner was finished, Mike started to get up from the table. Starsky laid a hand on her shoulder. "Not yet, Jeeps. We need to talk to you." Hutch finished clearing the plates then sat down with them. He placed a tape recorder in the center of the table and turned it on.

"Tell us about Paesano's," Starsky said gently.

She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her nervously. "I had those dreams about you David. In one of the dreams you and I were having dinner together. It was the first time I saw your face clearly. I had memorized every detail about that dream; what you looked like, what the restaurant looked like, what kind of car you drove. I had hoped it would help me to find you."

"Go on," he encouraged.

"I was watching tv when I saw a commercial for a new restaurant that had just opened. They showed the inside of the restaurant, and I recognized it! The wallpaper, the paintings, all of it. It was the same restaurant that we were at in the dream! I had to go. I had to see if you were there. I knew I would finally meet you once I saw that."

"So you went out to Paesano's? Was that the same night you saw the commercial?" Hutch asked.

She nodded. "As soon as I got there I knew. I knew this was it. If I didn't see you there tonight, I would go back. Eventually you would be there. The waiter took me to my table, and it was the same table I had dreamt about! Everything was falling into place. I would look up every time someone walked in, half expecting to see your face. Then I looked up and I saw four men come in wearing ski masks."

Tears welled up in her eyes. Starsky reached over and squeezed her hand. "Take your time, Jeeps."

"They were carrying automatic weapons. They started shooting at the people along the back wall. I jumped up and started to run. The waiter saw me and grabbed me. He threw me to the floor just before they turned their guns on us. They just kept shooting and shooting...."

She started to cry. Hutch brought her a box of kleenex. "Jeeps, can you tell us what the shooters looked like?" His voice was soothing.

"They were wearing ski masks, but I saw their eyes. One had brown eyes with dark lashes. Two had hazel eyes. The third had pale blue eyes. Brown Eyes had a tattoo on the back of his right hand. It looked like a scorpion, or maybe a spider. Blue Eyes was blond and left handed. One of the Hazel Eyes wore a wedding band, and he was blond too with a long pony tail. The other Hazel Eyes had a mustache, light brown. It needed a trim and I could see it in the opening for his mouth on the ski mask. Hazel Eyes with the mustache had an accent, a Southern accent. It wasn't too strong though, maybe from Tennessee?"

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other and smiled.

"You gave us a lot there Jeeps," Hutch told her.

"You said Hazel Eyes had an accent. Did they say anything you remember?" Starsky prodded.

"He said, ‘Alphonse will be pleased,'" she said. "He also mentioned Heathcliff Place. They were all going to meet at Heathcliff Place. The rest didn't say much."

Hutch jumped up and kissed Jeeps on the top of the head. "Jeeps, you just handed us the shooters all wrapped up with a big red bow on top," he laughed.

"We know these guys," Starsky explained. "With your testimony, we'll be able to get them the death penalty. You also fingered the man who hired them."

Hutch added, "The four men are known muscle for Luigi Alphonse, a mob boss in LA. Alphonse has been in heated conflict with the Gaziano family for years now. Alphonse wants Gaziano's territory in Bay City. This shooting was a threat to Gaziano to compromise or go to war. After speaking with the owner of the restaurant, I felt like he wasn't being straight with me, so I had him checked out. He goes by the name Colleti now, but he is a Gaziano. As soon as I saw that, I had a pretty good idea that it was a mob hit. Several Gazianos were killed in the shooting, including Gaziano's grandson, but Colleti claimed he had no idea why the shooting took place. He's running scared. It's a pretty good bet there will be a shift in power taking place here now."

Starsky said happily, "Your statement just verified our suspicions on the gunmen, and you tied it back to Alphonse. Not only was Alphonse specifically named, but Heathcliff Place is the name of his estate. We have enough to bring them down."

She smiled. "Good. I'll look forward to testifying."

"Testifying will endanger your life," Hutch reminded her. "These are not small time hoods. They will come after you. You will be offered the Witness Protection Program."

"I understand," she said soberly. "I'm still testifying."

 

~*~

 

Hutch sat back on the couch and dragged a hand over his face. "I'm sorry Starsk. I'm just not buying this story from you two. Someone's lying here."

"We've been over this a dozen times. I can't give you any answers, Hutch."

"I can't shake the feeling that Jeeps has the answers. That she knows more than she's telling."

Starsky shook his head. "My gut tells me she is telling the truth. She doesn't know any more about this than I do."

"Yeah, well, you're a little too close here, buddy. You want to believe that." Hutch looked to his partner. "What if she's been hypnotized?" he speculated. "What if she were brainwashed or something? What if Gunther's goons got to her, planted all these ideas in her head, and sent her to you? Have you thought of that? She could be setting you up for something, and neither of you know it."

"That's pretty farfetched, don't ya think?" Starsky smiled.

"Oh, and I suppose the idea that you two met in your dreams is perfectly logical?"

"What if we're soul mates? Did ya ever think of that?" Starsky grinned. "Maybe it's just fate."

"I'm sorry Starsk. I don't trust this. I'm concerned. What do we really know about her?"

"I know all I need to know about her," he said quietly.

"What are you going to do if she chooses to go with the Witness Protection Program?" Hutch's question was like a knife in Starsky's heart.

"I guess I'll have to face that when it happens."

 

~*~

 

Mike's purse and portfolio were discovered among the victim's belongings. Hutch brought it to her, along with her sketch pad.

"I brought this to show you that night," she said to Starsky. "I have drawn pictures of you." She passed the book to Starsky. Starsky went through the drawings again slowly, as if seeing them for the first time.

He stopped at the faceless drawing of him. "When did you draw this?" he asked.

"They're dated," she told him. "Top left corner. Year, month, day; without slashes or dashes."

Starsky checked the date. "This was five, nearly six years ago," he said in awe.

He finally came to the picture of him with the scars and he checked the date. "Hutch?" His voice was tight.

Hutch walked up and took the pad from him. He examined the date. "Jeeps, this must be a mistake. When did you draw this one?" He held the book out to her and pointed to the date.

"No, that's correct," she said confused. "Why? What's wrong with the date?"

Hutch and Starsky locked eyes. Starsky swallowed hard. Hutch turned to Mike and handed her the book. "This was drawn a year before he was shot."

 

~*~

 

Mike testified against the gunmen, and all four were found guilty. One had arranged a plea bargain for a reduced sentence, and testified against Alphonse for arranging the massacre. Because of the influence Alphonse would have, even from prison, Mike's life would be in great danger. Against his own heart, Starsky tried to persuade Mike to take the offer of the Witness Protection Program.

"I can't do it, David. I can't walk away now. I have searched for you for so many years!" She cried softly on his shoulder.

"You will never be safe here, Jeeps," he insisted. "I can't protect you from that kind of muscle. Alphonse will never rest until you are dead."

Hutch came into the house, very somber. He tossed his keys down on the kitchen table and slid out of his coat. When he sat down, he crossed his arms on the table and hung his head. Without looking at the pair on the couch, he announced, "Altamore is dead. Knifed in his cell."

Altamore was the gunman who plea bargained and testified against Alphonse.

Jeeps turned her head into Starsky's chest and cried.

 

~*~

 

"Detective Hutchinson! Where is your partner?!" Dobey bellowed.

"I don't know where they went, Captain," Hutch replied honestly.

"The agent from the Witness Protection Program was expecting them yesterday! What am I supposed to tell him?!"

"Captain, Starsky is determined to get her into that program. Give him some time, please. He'll bring her in, Captain. You have my word."

Dobey grunted. "He has 24 hours," he stated. "After that, I can't promise anything. Make sure he gets his butt in here!"

Hutch nodded his thanks and quickly scooted out of the captain's office. Later in the day, he drove by Starsky's apartment, hoping to see the familiar Torino. He didn't expect it to be there, and was relived to see the garish white stripe in its regular spot. Hutch ran up the stairs and pounded twice on the door for warning before he burst into the apartment with his key.

Starsky and Jeeps were on the couch, Jeeps curled into his arms.

"Geez you two scared the hell out of me!" Hutch shouted, hands on his hips. "How was I supposed to know if you were safe? And how was I supposed to get a hold of you if something was wrong?! Dobey is having a fit. He's given you 24 hours to get down to the station and meet with the agent. I gave him my word you would be there. Don't make liar out of me."

Starsky walked up to his partner and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry Hutch. It was just something I needed to do." Hutch saw the look on his face and softened. One glance told him that Jeeps had agreed to enter the program. He nodded to Starsky. "What should I tell Dobey?"

"Tell him I will be there tomorrow," Jeeps soft voice answered.

"Where were you?" Hutch inquired. He turned on Starsky, his glare demanding an answer.

"Camping," Starsky replied.

"Camping?" Hutch was amused. "You?"

"I borrowed your gear," he admitted.

Hutch laughed. He had never missed it. It would certainly not occur to him that Starsky would willingly submit himself to roughing it in the woods. It was probably the best place for Starsky to be in hiding. Nobody who knew him would have expected it.

Jeeps got up and wearily headed for the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a shower," she said.

After she was out of earshot, Hutch nudged his friend. "You gonna be okay?"

Starsky nodded. "I just needed some time with her Hutch. I have spent all these months with her as Detective Starsky. I needed to be with her as David." Then he added, "Before I let her go."

"You know," Hutch pointed out, "you could always go with her."

He gave a sad smile. "Trying to get rid of me Hutch?"

"Trying to remind you that you have options."

Starsky faced him. "I can't do that Hutch. My life is here." He looked down, dejected. Then he looked up with a smile. "But I can tell you one thing. I will find her. We found each other once; we will find each other again. I will see her again."

"I believe you will, pal," Hutch replied sincerely. "It's fate."

 

_The End_

 


End file.
